My Birthday Gift To You
by Nals
Summary: Another birthday has passed, and Margo has received her gifts. But what if one of her friends still has one gift left to give? MCxOC


_I have read and reread Lisatjuh's fics and I guess I was inspired to do this. Here goes..!_

…_be careful of double POV in this story. :)_

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In my youth, I've coveted a lot of guys, be they claimed or bachelors. I mean, what girl with a weakness for guys wouldn't? Well, maybe 'covet' is a very strong word; I think I'll go for 'have a crush one'. Yes, that's about right.

It didn't really matter if the guys is sweet or shrewd; that guy is hot and I don't care. But I was young and innocent then, my friends and I. I was still Daddy's little girl.

But now that I'm nearly in my thirties, I've known better than to like someone without judging him by his cover. My cousin and I learned that the hard way. Although we have had our share of heartache and heart-break, she's happily married to a man that can surprise her everyday in many ways. Me? Engagement has never looked this amazing.

Every little second I'm not otherwise occupied by my 458, my family or with someone else—well, at least, most of the time—he's the one to occupy my attention. Sometimes a little touch of his fingers is enough, be it on the back of my hand, against my fingertips, or tracing along the planes of my face. Sometimes it's not enough, though, and in secret his lips catch my undivided attention. And sometimes, even that's not enough.

Just because a prestigious racer with a hot body doesn't necessarily mean he's sex-oriented. On the contrary: he's more of a passionate, loyal lover than one to have a one-night-stand. Murmuring sweet, soft words in Spanish. Caressing my skin like it was of down or of delicate fabric, as if the callouses in his hands would pull a thread out of place. Brushing his lips warmly onto my most sensitive places. Making sure I'm alright. These are only few of the best things I love about Miguel.

I leave the Bernoulli home to go live in the country next door: Spain. He brings me to places as he travels for his races. I tag along—or he drags me along, whatever—to parties. He protects me from paparazzi ambushes. I celebrate holidays and other special days with him.

Exactly a year after my accident came the proposal. I was ecstatic and surprised. No wonder Miguel had planned something special for the night; he _never_ plans anything special with or for me. When I told my cousin, she was astounded. When the rest of our friends heard, his, mine and ours, everyone was happy for us and astounded like my cousin. And as news of this hit gossip pages and TV stations, oh man; there was no stopping request as guests going live on TV segments and shows.

Tonight, we celebrate my birthday, held by my cousin back in Italy, as usual. I appreciated all the lovely gifts by friends and family. Friends like Rip Clutchgoneski, Carla Veloso and Jeff Gorvette are staying in a hotel nearby. Miguel and I insist though, we stay in the same hotel before we return to Spain. Marlene gives in, and we're in a room just next to good friend Rip's. The entire floor is empty except for the five of us.

I retreat to the large room, almost exhausted, and fall to the bed, face up. He shuts the door, locking it. I don't really mind; I've been known to lock my own door for privacy. Although something slips in my mind as I think of the word 'privacy'.

Since we arrived three days ago, I've been hearing things in the next room, right in the middle of the night, where Rip and Carla are sleeping. I wince, sighing. I'll bet Carla was the first to make the move; I've known Rip long enough to know someone else should step in for him at some point.

He turns on the lamp beside the bed, and sits by my legs, hand on my knee. In the light I scrutinize the new golden engagement ring he gave me almost six months ago. He stares at me, and I can tell he wants to say something, just as I can tell my dad wants to comment. I sit up, pressing against him.

"Happy birthday," he says as his arm pulls me close, and his lips press to my hair.

"Thanks," I reply, smiling up at him.

He's gorgeous, really. I've always had a thing for his green eyes; deep and mysterious, just as I saw them last year. His dark brown hair has been uncut for a few months now. Not that I'm complaining, but it kinda adds to the appeal. His jaw is slightly square. His features can define gentleness and love or fury and hatred in a second. Tonight, his usual smolder is green fire; that much I can see in the way he's looking at me right now.

I smile. "What?"

"Nothing," he replies, and his fingers lightly trace my cheek. "I just love you so much."

I just stare at him, mesmerized. It's kind of an unspoken rule that he lead me in this kind of thing. He gently, lightly, presses his lips to mine.

Oddly enough, my hands don't react. I sit there, mouth moving with his, and his hand has come to lightly touch the underside of my chin, kind of like calling me closer. My eyes are closed in the emotional haven he's giving me right now. And I don't want him to stop. Not yet, anyway.

Too soon he pulls away, and my eyes flutter open, dismay in my grown gaze. He smiles at me, and I can't help but do so, too. His thumb caresses my cheek lightly as his hand cups the side of my face. My own hand comes up to hold the back of his so I can turn my head to press my nose against his bare palm. He grins, and kisses me again.

This time, his lips are urgent, needy. His hand slides down to my ribs. I catch on, and I scramble onto his lap, arms around his neck, fingers in his long, dark hair. I've adopted the exigency he's showing me.

With shaky hands and divided attention I tinker with the zipper on his golden signature jacket, and press my cold fingers to the warms of his shoulders. This earns me a low but heavy groan, and his grip on my hips tighten. Slowly but surely, my palms and fingers travel down his black shirt, rubbing slightly the tense muscles of his shoulders, chest and abdomen. I'm disappointed to find his shirt tucked in, but with a hard pull it frees from the tightness of his belt, and my skin meets his.

He gasps, tearing his lips away from mine, but I don't stop. I know he likes it. I just do. He sheds his jacket, then his shirt. I just watch.

It's one thing, to see him dress; it's a whole other matter to watch him strip. The last time I saw him do so was last year, in the first day of our games. But who's complaining?

As soon as his clothes are off I press my lips to his neck, and I am directly rewarded with a louder sound. My lips hardly miss a spot in his front; should it be so my fingers easily cover them. When I can't reach any lower he leans on his hands on the bed, and I take in the view as I sit up again. I grin, almost sheepish.

And then, it's my turn. He helps me with my own jacket and shirt underneath, and eyes my lace lingerie. He's never seen me in just me underwear before, either. Seriously.

I chuckle. _"¿Me gusta?_" I suggest.

"_Me gusta,_" he confirms, and blinks.

I roll my eyes, my hands reaching for the hooks behind me. As the pair becomes undone, I slip it off, tossing it to the pile at the end of the bed. He's staring like a nitwit, and I chuckle again. He snaps out of it, and chuckles at me.

"What?" I ask again.

He shakes his head as he presses his lips to my chest. I gasp, pulling him closer to me as he gives my twins the same attention he gives the rest of my front. His lips then fly to mine, and I find myself straddling him tighter.

I can't stand it anymore.

"Get it off, Miguel," I hiss the moment my lips are free enough to speak. "Get it off, please."

His hands are then working on his belt, button and zipper, and I kneel on the covers so he can take away his jeans. While his hands are on my hips I fumbled with my own pants, but I have to stand so I could pull them away. I hadn't noticed him take off his boxers; maybe because he wasn't wearing any. At any rate, the sight before me is amazing.

I know I've imagined how he'd look like, but never this real. No, not this real.

Dropping to my knees, I take him in my hand, and he tenses with anticipation. I snicker slightly as he gasps just as my tongue makes contact with his tip.

Oh, how I just love tonight.

My name leaves his lips as I take more of him in my mouth. It's a much bigger fit, but I strain and extend my jaw as much as I can. I don't want him to hit my teeth, but at some point, I do. His fingers wind in my now-loose, medium-long hair as he hisses in pleasure. My hand jerks with my head. He stays put, but I'm sure he's yearning to get moving.

He's disappointed when he leaves my maw, snarling a line of curses, but I quickly shut him up with my lips as I press him back onto the bed, hand still on his erection. He gazes at me in wonder as continue what I started, my hand continuously jerking, until he throws his head back, something between a shout and a moan resonating in his throat. I stop, and his lightly his neck.

"My turn," I murmur, and lie on my back on the bed. He's grinning as his cold hands slide along my thighs.

I'm panting as he hovers over me, my gaze on his as expectation makes me quiver. Licking his fingers he rubs my clit slightly, and I give a small moan. The gentle rubbing is fun, but it's not what I'm looking for. Most certainly not what I'm looking for. Just when I start pleading for him to go on he slips a finger into me, and I literally scream in ecstasy as my back arches against the bed, begging him not to stop, even more so when he adds a second digit. Unfortunately for me though, he pulls out, and I am left feeling empty and lonely in a sense.

I watch him glance around and move away, but my hand grips his wrist before he can leave me. His features are tense and quite alarmed.

"Where are you going?" he ask softly, almost worriedly. He's not backing out now, is he?

"Erm…I don't have a cover on," he replies awkwardly.

My wide eyes relax. "We won't need it," I say. In the back of my mind I can't believe he actually packed condoms.

He, too, relaxes as I move upward to press against him, hands gently massaging his shoulders, and he gives a moan as he lowers us to the covers.

I rest my head on the pillows as he glances down, my fingers in his hair. Even if I can't see, I can still paint a picture in my head. I can feel his tip brush my skin, then press into my opening. I can't hold back a low moan as he slides into me.

He glances into my eyes, worried as I wince and gasp in pain. I just didn't imagine him to be this big. Or am I just that small? No matter; he's there now, may as well go on.

Things start then, starting small. All I can do is to stare into his beautiful green eyes, listing the things I loved about him as he backed out and pressed back in, almost harder each and every time. His face presses against mine, and in some moments our lips meet. Our breaths are hot and quick. My hands slip and slide over his skin, so I just hang on to his hair.

The closer I get, the louder my voice pitches. We just stare into each other as I breathe quick words, like 'I love you' and 'right there'. He smiles at me at some point and doesn't stop. I keep my poker face as my muscles tense.

Marlene has told me things about this kind of thing, says it's the best thing you've ever felt. "Well, maybe not the best thing," she says, rubbing her chin. "Maybe it's the aftermath."

I didn't care about that, because as I hit an orgasm, I scream out his name I'm not surprised if Jeff, whose room is on Rip's other side, can hear us at this time of night. Miguel, too, calls out in ecstasy as I feel his warmth pour into me, something that can give me consequences I know only too well. I still don't give a fuck about that; my name has never sounded this amazing in his voice.

He tries pulling out, but I only cling to him as he falls sideways, still on the bed. I give a laugh, and he laughs with me, exhaustion clear in his voice.

I stare at him, playing with his long locks mindlessly as I prop myself up with my elbow. He's turned his head towards me, fingertip tracing my curves. I smile at him, and as he does so, I can feel my chest swell in love and happiness. Maybe this was the kind of aftermath Marlene was telling me, because I sure fell so damn better right now than I ever did.

"How'd I do?" he murmured softly.

I flash my teeth a little. "I don't really know," I say as I kiss his lips softly, then lingering for a moment. A corner of my mouth twitches in a smile.

He grins, pressing against me once more. "Happy birthday," he whispers again.

It's my turn to really grin at him, my gaze dropping from his shyly. This is his birthday gift.

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_And I quote: "Poor excuse for porn is poor." xD_

_At any rate, I'd just like to say that there's an extreme lack of stories for the rest of the racers and other characters. This should be my first M-rated fic, so read and review. And remember: Miguel Camino is mine, y'hear? xD *luffluffluff*_


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